


Playoff

by Rinichey



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Back to the past, Backstory, Closet Gueira, Dorks, Gen, How Gueira and Meis met, On the Run, Slight Action, Starvation, he just doesn't know, life of crime, slight crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22649791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinichey/pseuds/Rinichey
Summary: Three weeks of Running. Three weeks of hardship. Three weeks was all Gueira could last and now he can't run anymore. Left to his fate until another poor soul enters his life.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Playoff

**Author's Note:**

> I got a curious cat for anyone interested! Wanna ask me a question about my work or whatever? Hit me up! 
> 
> https://curiouscat.me/Rinichey

_“You’re quick on your feet.”_

The soles of his shoes had been worn down and eaten by asphalt. What little skin that was still protected felt baby smooth amongst dirtied, calloused and bloodied wounds.

_“Fastest runner I’ve ever seen. Did you see him zip by?”_

His legs were crumpled in a lanky mess, hidden by torn and holey jeans. When the strength came he could sprint, but where was that strength anymore.

_“However… you haven’t gained any muscle. Did you follow our regimen?”_

His skin was pulled taut over his ribcage and his high school’s football shirt draped loosely over his shoulders. His cheekbones jutted out and his arms were as thick as his bones. He hardly had the strength to push his head up.

_“I’m sorry, but we can’t put someone on the team who’s going to get annihilated on the first tackle. Have you tried for track?”_

He gritted his teeth as he still heard his Coach repeat the same rejection over and over. His mind couldn’t process anything else but the last words he’d heard and the myriad of footsteps that disregarded him.

Hidden in shade, he kept his cruddy tin can glinting in the light with a torn piece of paper propped on the side, ‘ _Hungry, any amount helps_. _God bless._ ’ He kept his legs close to his chest and his arms propped over his knees. His back was bent with hanging head as he felt every bit the feral mutt civilians probably regarded him as.

Three weeks ago he was plopped on his family’s couch with pizza rolls stacked on a platter and a game controller in hand controlling football players he dreamed of becoming. School had just started, scholarships were ready to be submitted and he’d gone quiet on his girlfriend trying to figure out why he never got excited over their sweet affection.

He’d kill for a pizza roll.

It was all his Coach’s fault. He’d tried his damned hardest to get that gain without resorting to steroids. He worked out every single day but no matter how hard he tried his metabolism kept screwing him over. Lanky and nothing else. Benched again, only in his senior year, it was the last time.

Sure, he had a mental breakdown in the locker rooms. Sure, he beat up his locker till his knuckles were bruised and sore. But he never meant for everything to combust. He didn’t mean for the lockers to melt and the fire alarm to blare. He didn’t mean for some poor soul to be still trapped in the back when everyone evacuated and he didn’t mean to run off before anyone could question what the hell happened.

The nightmare truly began that day he became burnish.

Run, that’s all he knew now. Abandoning town after city after state whenever things felt too hairy or to just gain distance. Last he checked he’d been carted off somewhere in Louisiana just as he ran out of cash and his ma’s credit card was frozen. His transportation now was those fast legs his Coach only praised him for.

His pinky reached out to the sweltering and ugly light to tip his can; single pennies and a dime. He’d scream if he had the energy, letting the can sit upright as he recoiled back into the dark. His stomach sure as hell felt like it was eating the very skin that tried to keep everything in.

He sluggishly raised his head like he was raising a boulder when he heard shuffling down the alley. A body flopped and hit into his arm before settling on the smushed cardboard he sat on. Their arms weren’t as boney but their clothes were just as tattered with medium-length, dark purple hair covering their features.

“Fuck off, bitch.” His voice was as grainy and as dry as the summer heat. If he had to fight this chick to keep his corner he’d do so in a heartbeat.

His tune changed when a piercing eye was shot and the more masculine features of his face stood out. In fact, he looked around the age of his peers. Something was pressed into his stomach and he peered down expecting some sort of switchblade or gun.

What a wonderful wakeup call that it was a small bag of chips. He tore into the bag and pigged out as the figure sat in silence. Sprinkles of chips fell to the concrete that he shamelessly scooped and licked off his fingers when he’d swallowed the entirety of the bag. He nearly choked back a sob at how greasy but delicious they were until he began to actually choke from a few bits getting caught in his windpipe.

The stranger leant a hand and patted his back till he dislodged the shrapnel. His stomach festered as it demanded more, clutching the annoying organ. Just before he could speak the figure held out something else and oh, _oh_. It was half empty but the water sparkled even in the dark. He snatched the water bottle like the chips and drank the rest in a few heavy glugs. Already, his mind felt revitalized with some energy regained.

With a toss down the alley, he turned to the stranger. “What’s your angle?”

“That’s what we do,” The thick, southern drawl to the stranger’s voice screamed Texan. The stranger fixed his posture and let his arms hang out over his legs. “Look after one another.”

“Huh, some ‘southern hospitality’ bullshit?” His voice didn’t sound as hoarse as he still couldn’t stop the lurch with a series of dry coughs. A little cup of water and chips wasn’t going to keep him alive. “Got any more?”

The stranger pointed beyond him to the convenience store just right down the street. “Plannin on hittin it tonight and gittin out of town. You with me?”

“Bro, I hardly know you.” Did he even have the strength to get up? He felt as dried out as jerky that’d been sitting too long. “Fuck off.”

“You sure?” The stranger didn’t move, cocking an eyebrow. “You want me to leave you here to die on the streets? Cuz that’s what’s gonna happen.”

“Got this far,” The results spoke. Such a pitiful gaze given made him wish he could punch that face out.

“Where you from?” This was pointless. If he was going to starve on the streets he’d rather do it alone and with some pride. “Florida, huh?”

Just when he was about to ask how the hell, he glanced down at his tattered team shirt and back up to the faint smile. “You guys really have gator problems?”

“Will you leave?” He tried to put a hand between them but keeping it raised hurt. He let it flop as the stranger pressed his back against the wall.

“Okay, okay. How about this?” The stranger drew his eyes to his hand and hid it between them. With a faint snap, a burst of blue flames engulfed his fingers down to his tips and snuffed it out just as quickly.

“You’re—!” That same hand clasped over his mouth, cool to the touch. That wouldn’t be the case if the stranger allowed it.

“So help me if you _squeal_ ,” His face was too close to the snarling stranger. “Like I said, we look after one another.”

He only stopped digging into his cheekbones when he settled down. His mind felt more rattled than when it was being fried. “How the _fuck_ —“

“You were playing with it last night.” The stranger nestled back onto the wall, looking more exhausted than when he sat down to rest. “Flames aren’t pink.”

Shit. He swore there wasn’t anyone on the streets when he lit up his fingers. He closed his fists defensively. “Okay, you got me. I… _turned_ three weeks ago.” He didn’t let himself slip for too long, less he start thinking of his kid brother and sis and his ma he left back home. “Haven’t looked back since.”

“Huh,” It came out more like a laugh. “So you’re just a baby.”

“Wanna say that again?” He knew he was in no position to fight and the miserable cough that followed proved that.

“You got far.” The stranger praised him. “I’m no better. Maybe… two months now?” A friendly hand was extended. “Name’s Meis.”

He eyed it and took it to shake. “Gueira.”

“Florida Man Gueira, eh? I’ll remember that.”

He bit his inner cheek at the cheeky comment. “Cowboy yeehaw Meis.”

The innocent laugh from Meis was kind of cute. “Nah, I wish. Never rode a steed that wasn’t mechanical.” Just as the joke died on his lips did Meis’ nerves harden. Their glances both stole over at the convenience store. “So. You in or not? There’s no future beggin’ on street corners.”

“Fuck man, you think I’m in condition?” As he straightened his screaming back, he winced as he felt slightly delirious. “Even if I wanted to, I’m bones.”

Meis gave him a once-over, then slowly stood up. He extended that hand again. “All you need is a bit of food, water and rest. Are you sayin’ it’s a yes?”

Gueira eyed the shifty hand and back up to its owner. “Are you ‘sayin’ you got those things?”

“And if I do?” Eyeing the turned heads and complete refusal to look at them, Meis crouched down with his palm still up. “What have you got to lose at this point?”

There was his spot, but that was tossed out the more he thought of his situation. Staying was a dead man’s wish, and even if Meis was the type to stab him in the back later, he at least tried. Ma raised no quitter.

A hard slap resounded when he took his hand, eyes hardening. “Alright. I’m in.”

Collecting his tin cup and sign was easy; standing was a whole other obstacle. Meis had to use the wall to get him back onto his feet, stopping occasionally when the world felt like it was spinning from rising so suddenly. How long had he been glued to that spot? He just slipped in and out of consciousness whenever sleep demanded it.

Meis shouldered what little weight was left over his shoulders and off they hobbled. He felt the last residuals of the intense sun as they slipped further into the darkened, cooler alleyway. Every step felt alien on his weak feet, tripping far more than he’d like to as Meis kept him up and steady. And every step he felt as much of a loser as he appeared, no doubt believing he’d just be bait for Meis to snatch some snacks and bolt.

Whatever delusions he had of some sort of secluded corner cemented when Meis miraculously got him down on his knees to crawl through a boarded-up doorway and into what appeared to be a Laundromat. So many washers were out of order with work orders going back a few months. Gueira was escorted over to a wooden picnic table—which made no sense for the type of service—and sat down.

His legs praised the circulation as he tapped his toes onto the dirty tile. His back buckled and down he went over the table, breathing a large sigh of relief. “Thank God for seats…”

“Yeah, yeah, praise the lord,” Meis twirled a hand, sitting down with one leg in and one leg out. “What are you hankerin for?”

Prying his cheek off the chipped table, he saw the line of vending machines at the far end corner. One was completely empty with glass strewn everywhere, another had neat holes through the glass and some snacks left and the third was a combination of soda and water beverages.

His stomach took a bite out of his liver and he dropped his head with a low groan. “Everything. Water too.”

“You’ll be pukin it back up,” Meis warned but he only shot him a middle finger.

“Worth it.”

Footsteps retreated as he let out another relieved sigh. If he ever lived through this he would never throw away slightly rotten food again. Or get on his sister so harshly for hogging the TV. Or ignore when his brother wanted to go outside and play… or tell his ma more often he loved her.

The sound of a crumpled bag of chips tore him from the depressive thoughts and he was back to inhaling junk food. Meis, the bastard, only brought over one bag of chips and a full bottle of water. Both were trash in just a couple of minutes, stomach still ferocious but the water kept his head above unconsciousness.

Meis put out the second bottle he’d stolen as Gueira only downed half this time. His eyes wouldn’t leave him while he wiped the corner of his mouth. “Got nothing better to do?”

“Not really.” Meis shrugged. As soon as he set his hand down Meis grasped his fingers and tugged it halfway across the table. He yelped but couldn’t worm his way out of his probing. “Your hands are really rough.”

“Great, maybe we’ll get a manicure in the next town over!” Despite his jostling, Meis wouldn’t let go.

“See, I got this theory,” Meis prattled on. “And now that you got some fuel…” Gueira contemplated attempting to take his back for the third time when his new companion’s hands burst in a fury of blue. Adrenaline zipped through his body as he lurched and yanked, but Meis tugged harder and Gueira ended up face-planting into the wood. “Settle down!”

The fire crept up his arm like a swarm of spiders with needle-like appendages. Every blood vessel burst and a surge of goosebumps and cold sweat littered his body. “S-Stop! Meis!”

“One second! Gimme one second!”

Like a pool of magma, the embers spilled over his torso and flooded his vision as though he were just a mold. It bled deep into his core and the voices he’d been trying to quell crescendo into a flurry of noise. It yanked his own fires to ignite, blue and red fighting for dominance as he felt his heart tugged against his skin, ready to burst.

Then, something snapped, and Gueira yanked free just as his clothes burst into orange flames. His head hit the tiles first and afforded him that all too familiar white-noise. Gangly limbs flailed and Gueira screamed from the sheer panic of being set on fire. Meis dropped beside him and Gueira saw the pale, thin strip of his chest just as his shirt slapped into his face. “Put yourself out!”

Hitting, hard slaps hardly helped. Upon a deep inhale the fire fizzled as Gueira scrambled to sit up. His hand cracked against Meis’ scalp, who scurried back while holding the point of contact. “What the fuck was that?! You son of a bitch!”

He almost grappled Meis as the other young man kicked his foot into his stomach. “I was just tryin to help!”

“By setting me on fire?!” He wrought his hands through his disgusting, oily hair and froze. Slowly, his arms fell with no pain or weakness. The once apparent jutting of bones was smoothed and fleshed out. A quick clench of his fists and he felt his veins ache with a dull burn that soon dissipated.

With a short gasp, he rose to his feet, only slightly dizzy now, and pulled up his scorched shirt. His ribcage wasn’t pushed into his skin, still skinny, still lanky, but feeling a million times better than the husk he’d become.

Meis was just as entranced with his stomach till Gueira forced the shirt down. It sent more jitters than when his girlfriend hungrily stared at it. “H-hey, don’t you ogle me.”

“It worked!” The grin couldn’t be any wider on Meis’ face. “It really worked! I healed you!”

“More like black magic,” Gueira swore, but couldn’t keep such a sour frown when he could stand. He tested his body some more with a few warm-up stretches, feeling the tendrils tighten but not buckle. “Seriously, what the fuck did you do?”

“I don’t know!” It was the dumbest thing to come out of Meis’ mouth and also the silliest smile he’d seen. “I had a few cuts that I learned to heal a few days ago. Figured if I tried it on you, but a lot more intense, you might heal too.”

“You still set me on fire!” Gueira felt he had to drive that home, but Meis was now in a laughing fit.

“Isn’t that what we do?”

The logic there was hard to trounce. Soon enough, he plopped down beside Meis as the bubbles popped and he snorted that turned into his own laugh. “You freaky bastard. Don’t you ever try that again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Meis waved him off as the laughter faded. The smile still stayed and shit, Gueira liked how it sat on his face. But just as he was getting acquainted with it did it hide behind a mask of resolve. “I got a few plans I’ve been jugglin. Been stalkin that store for almost a week. If we fail, we still run; there’s no second chances.”

Turning to a life of crime was something Gueira hadn’t been planning before he graduated high school. He didn’t think he was part of that crowd, but he also didn’t expect to be begging on the streets. A part of him charged at the idea of doing something so stupid and rebellious and hey, wasn’t he young enough to get away with it?

“Then I guess we hit it hard the first time.” His cocky grin, more to pump himself, got Meis to bring back his toothy grin. He just hoped he could keep this miracle strength and resolve to the bitter end.

* * *

The plan was simple enough; no casualties, no fighting. Just a lot of bluffing that Meis was thankfully taking on. All Gueira had to do was scrounge whatever he could grab. Nothing that required wasting water to prepare.

Meis grilled him on end about what he knew about his powers or if he’d played around with them, to which he had no answer. He’d been staving off the insane voices in his head for as long as he could, despite their pleas and aches to burn things. His spirits weren’t soaring as high at the admittance but Meis was still sure the plan was going to work. If all succeeded, they wouldn’t even need it.

The small ding of the bell above the door alerted the middle-aged woman at the counter of Gueira’s arrival. The bright lights of the convenience store contrasted the black night curtaining the windows. Her worn eyes were already suspicious, no doubt from his tattered wear, as he shambled over and placed his little tin on the counter.

“Just need to use the restroom,” Gueira asked in a sorry tone. If Meis was right then this woman would have already seen him on the streets. “I’ll even pay for something… whatever this gets me…”

The woman peered an eye down to the pathetic earnings. “You couldn’t even buy a stick of gum with this.”

“Sorry,” Gueira shuffled his hands into his torn pockets.

With a pitiful gaze, the woman still took the can and deposited the pennies into the cash register. “Don’t try grabbing anything and sneaking a snack or I’ll have the cops hauling you off.”

Gueira thanked the lord at her response and nodded his head before scurrying off to the back. The small corridor was unlit as he eyed the employee exit right next to the bathroom. The metal lock and handle were still intact, hovering a hand over the handle and feeling the searing heat roll off it. Any second now that handle would drop as he hurried into the bathroom and silently closed the door.

He startled at his own reflection in the mirror, his dirty and unkempt brown bangs accentuated the heavy bags under his eyes and hollow cheekbones. The fire couldn’t heal everything. If his ma could see him now, she’d be so disappointed in him. But then again, wouldn’t she want to see her son alive when all of this was over?

“Sorry, ma,” Gueira apologized and took as many paper towels as he could into a sizeable stack in his hands. With a fake flush, he worked the towels under the running sink and wrung out any excess water. He slipped out just as silently to lay the thick stack right underneath the dripping handle and light grey wisps of smoke and got ready for his second part.

He tried not to hurry out into the woman’s line of sight, feeling her beady eyes once he exited the corridor. He dragged his leg behind him and waited till he turned a sharp corner to ‘catch’ the side. He clenched his jaw as he pulled down with him a small stack of beans, inventory tumbling as he hit stomach first onto the ground.

“For christ’s sake,” The woman groaned, sounding more concerned for the can of beans than any damage he might have taken. “Get up!”

“Please,” He reached a shaky hand out and hoped he wasn’t hamming up the performance. “I can’t walk…”

“You sure as hell are!” But her yelling didn’t make him budge. The innate desire to scramble to his feet and run out of the store to stop the yelling was smothered.

If the timing was even off…

Large stomps delivered the woman as she snatched his arm. “Get on! Mo—!”

“Don’t move.” Meis’ cold and unwavering tone snapped his head up. The woman’s face paled as he pushed something metallic into her side. It was half-covered by his open jacket with the tip pushed through. From this angle he could see how sloppy of a job Meis had done in such a hurry, the handle now serving as a fake gun.

Gueira’s hand slipped out of the woman’s grasp as he bounced to his feet. Guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders at how terrified the woman looked. Meis pushed the metal into her waist. “Back to the counter. Money in a bag and the rest to him.”

The woman complied without an ounce of sass. Meis took to her back and gave him an eyeful to follow. To any bystanders that walked by it simply looked like a teenager trailing close behind the owner.

Gueira didn’t waste one second once the plastic bags were on the counter. He snatched them and ran down the aisle, cursing the pressed plastic as time ticked just trying to open them. Large bags of chips, crackers, jerky, canned food and much more were all stuffed into the bags. Despite Meis’ warning, he did pause to throw some instant ramen packs in with the rest; knowing they were good provisions even without water. The final two bags were reserved for as much water as he could fit without threatening to rip them. The soda called to him like a siren’s call and he had to avert his gaze.

Arms shaking with snacks and water, he ran back to the front of the store just as the woman was fishing the last of the cash into the bag. She looked ready to cry, murmuring. “I-I have kids…”

“And they’ll see you tonight.” Meis quietly answered. “No one is going to get hurt and you’ll never see us again.”

It might have done nothing for the woman, but Gueira could feel the calmness off of Meis’ lips and believed it. Meis was… kind of cool.

Cash in hand, Meis let him dash out the door first with him in tow. Everything happened too fast for Gueira’s liking: a couple of cops walking down the sidewalk, the woman screaming something. The handle glinted in the light and someone shouted _gun_!

Every bag crashed to the ground as Gueira pushed Meis behind him just as the cops were drawing their weapons with no remorse. He knew in that little act he was dead but could only hope Meis was running the opposite direction. He needed to be his shield, not knowing what spurred him, just that he had to.

Burnish had to stick together.

A sudden fury of intense heat whipped up his body and through his hair just as gunfire exploded the quiet night. He rose in stature as his world turned green, feeling something warm encase him and squeeze him tight. The cops dropped their guns in sheer fright as Gueira wasn’t going to stop and reflect on what the fuck just happened.

“Get the fuck back!” He screamed and the concrete burst into furious waves of fire. His skull buzzed with praise as the voices trilled, feeling better, stronger in wreaking chaos. Like he was meant to do this.

The cops ran back for cover as Gueira turned back. Meis was still there, flat against the sidewalk amongst the bags with eyes as wide as dinner plates. “Gueira…?” From so far below he looked as equally scrawny and meek.

“Who else?” He quipped as he heard someone from the sidelines scream.

“Burnish! Demons!”

“Aw shit,” He crouched to grab back the bags only for large, black demonic claws to swoop in place of his hands. Gueira abruptly stood. “The fuck!” He gave a hard stare at his new hands and then turned to the convenience store windows. A grinning demon surfaced, causing Gueira to stagger back as he grabbed for the red horns spiking up out of his, his? Yes, _his_ helmet. “The _fuck_?!”

“Gueira!” He turned over to Meis who was collecting the rest of their stuff. Sirens wailed through the sky as he felt his cold sweat turn into a drench. Meis threw an arm and they took off running.

With every step, he turned to glance at the bulging muscle for his arms and slowed a bit to look at his beefy legs. His heart sang at the body he dreamed of having finally his. “… Is this even real?”

“Keep it together!” Meis only got so far with all the bags weighing him down. The sirens were right on top of him as he knew they’d be there any second.

“We just gonna run?”

“Nah,” Meis slipped the bags down to the sidewalk as he wiped his forehead, hair sticking to his cheeks. “I told you I haven’t ridden any steed that wasn’t mechanical.”

Before Gueira could even unpack what that meant, the ground beneath Meis fractured and streams of blue wisped into a massive flame. Metallic chunks snapped together as his feet floated off the ground. Black wheels attached to a small bike as Meis twisted his wrists and blue fire ejected out the exhaust pipes with a ferocious high-pitched squeal.

Gueira’s jaw dropped as the buzzing transferred into his veins. “Bro… that’s the sickest shit!”

Meis glanced over his shoulder with a sincere smirk like he knew he was said sickest shit. There was just enough room on the back for one more, yet Gueira didn’t have to look at himself to know he wouldn’t fit in this form.

“Can you change back?” Meis asked.

It should have been simple, but Gueira had no clue how he’d even summoned the demonic form. He squeezed his fists tightly and strained with several grunts, but found that the impressive muscles stayed. “I don’t know how!”

“I can’t fit you on here!” Meis’ voice rose as a heavy curtain of light blanketed them.

The heavy whirl of the descending chopper kept them in the spotlight. “Surrender or we’ll be forced to use whatever means necessary!”

“Go!” With a swift kick, Meis’ bike jolted as he got the picture and let the flames run wild. Streaks of blue licked the asphalt from where he peeled out. Gueira stooped down to pick up what was left of their robbery, able to hear the barrage of bullets but couldn’t tell where they were coming from. One stray bullet sacked his bag and ripped it open, spilling chips. “Hey! I just stole that!”

The quirky quips helped somewhat with the frantic beating of his heart that, were it not for his suit, he’d be holier than his shirt. Cop cars were skidding to the side as he threw his free arm up and the burning voices complied in raising a wall of fire.

He sprinted off with bags flailing as the spotlight stayed on him. Snippets of orders above for backup along with the song of bullets worsened his panic. The flames that Meis left on were diminishing faster than he could run and his heart skipped a beat as deep inside flinched.

His strong knee buckled as he went down. He gasped for air as his skin burned and teeth rang. The living sparks he could briefly identify were sputtering and his foot shattered out of his black shell.

“Gueira!” He rose his head and saw through the growing cracks of his visor wicked flames carrying Meis back. His hair whipped wildly on either side, eyes holding such ferocity that it stunned and silenced all thoughts.

The spotlight began trailing up to him just as he threw his arms up and the air over him crystallized in sapphire. Cracks of bullets impacting didn’t damage the shield as Meis slid and skidded to a high-speed stop right near his face. “Hand, now!”

His massive hand dwarfed Meis’, who spoke harsh and low. “On three, I lower the shield and you direct all your power up, got it?”

Gueira couldn’t tell if Meis could see his jaw drop. “You’re insane!”

“One!”

“You’ll be shot to death!”

“Two!”

“Aw for fuck’s sake,” They had nothing to lose at this point that wouldn’t also be accomplished by lying down and taking it. On the last second, they thrust their hands up, shield shattering as their palms sparked and erupted into a volcanic blast of intertwining flames.

Every bone in Gueira’s body trembled as though they were being sucked through a straw and he let out a terrible scream. His demonic arm burst but he felt Meis catch his arm and continue to hold it up. The blast scraped the side of the helicopter and annihilated half of the wings, sending the rest of the mechanical beast careening into a nearby building and skidding to a fiery stop on some roof.

In a flash of light, the rest of Gueira’s body was freed to fall exhaustingly onto the pavement. He heaved for air, nearly slipping away were it not for the insisted tugging of Meis. “Get up! Get up!!”

On shaky feet, he rose and noticed all the sprawled loot and torn bags. Hands reached but Meis slapped them away. “No time!”

Only a few bags were saved and deposited into a small basket Meis whipped up all the while forcing Gueira onto the back of his back. His head nested into his back as he felt the warm cascade of his fires. All he had to do was wrap his arms around his waist and keep his feet up and that was enough for Gueira to let consciousness slip away.

He drifted in and out to the lull of the smooth engine. One moment he can still hear the sirens, another there are massive trees on either side of the dead road, to absolutely nothing but sand and misshaped mountains. Every time he stirred and lifted his head he would hear Meis gently voice. “Go back to sleep. It’ll be awhile.” And every time he would lay his head back down with a mumble he couldn’t remember.

It was the best sleep he’d had since he went on the run.

As the hum of the engine disappeared and the bike tilted, Gueira groggily regained his senses. He leaned back and popped his sore and stiff back, feeling the cricks only lock in place. “We here?”

‘Here’ was just a large piece of rubble with some coverage amongst a field of broken concrete. When Meis turned back he saw the bag forming under his left eye. “There’s no _here_ for us. I’m just tired.”

The night still carried on over a starry sky that never shined so bright in the city. Gueira wobbled to his feet as Meis slipped off his dimly lit bike and let it fade away to ashes on the wind. They settled underneath the remnants of civilization past as Meis created a small fire for them. Provisions were past out, mainly a bottle of water and two cans of ravioli. No amount of fishing through their bags provided forks, so the two were left using the burned off tops and creasing them down the middle as make-shift spoons.

They ate in relative silence with the crackling fire providing some noise in dead of night. Gueira took the time not to cut his lips on the edges and chewed slowly, taking long glances over at Meis. On one glance, he noticed Meis staring right back and diverted his gaze. “Uh, that was something.” He slipped another cold ravioli onto his tongue. “You ever deal with that?”

Meis shook his head. His partner held out the can over his fire with the flames rolling over his fingers. “Not since I ran from home. It’s been pretty quiet when you keep your head down.”

Gueira mimicked his action and held the can close to the flames but still enough away that they couldn’t touch. “Where’s home for you?”

Meis took the steaming can close to his chest as he leaned back on the concrete. “It was Dallas, but it never really was ‘home’.” He partially shrugged. “Dunno if this is better or not. Well… okay, that’s a lie.” He sat up slightly and stirred with his lid. “Things have been lookin up since I met you.”

“Me?” A single ravioli plopped onto Gueira’s shirt but didn’t notice from the odd sensation in his stomach.

“I mean, for as crazy as that was, it was kind of excitin.” Meis scooted close enough to pluck the ravioli onto his ‘spoon’. “Like… what _was_ that? Felt like somethin out of an action movie! And the way we used our fire to shoot that helicopter out of the sky!” There was that smile Gueira liked more and more. “We were pretty dang cool if I say so.”

Gueira felt a toothy smile grow the longer Meis stared at him so brightly. “Yeah, we were… pretty cool.”

“Can you do that again?” The stolen ravioli was eaten by Meis. “How did you even do that?”

“Man, I thought you said you were tired.” Gueira jested, playfully pushing into his shoulder but hoping Meis wouldn’t shift back. He liked the closeness for once in his life. Dragging his feet close, he shrugged. “And I don’t really know. It just kind of happened.” A thought popped into his head, suddenly yelling. “Like… like a final desperate move when the world is ending!”

“Well, you saved mine.” The quiet murmur of Meis’ sincere tone turned Gueira’s ears red. Meis held out his tin cup, now nearly empty. “I couldn’t have done that without you. So… thanks for havin my back.”

Gueira couldn’t deal with the swirling emotions of having Meis so close, speaking so softly with gratitude. He bunched his legs together and tried hiding his head with one gangly arm but his blush still sprinkled his cheeks. “You said it earlier. Burnish gotta stick together.”

A little clink of their cans took them away, but Gueira was hardly hungry when his whole body was alight with nerves. Things were getting confusing too fast on what this all meant and why he never felt so tingly with his girlfriend and oh, _oh_ , lord if his ma ever found out.

“Can you teach me next time?” He snapped out of his spiraling thoughts to Meis’ question. He’d set his empty can down and somehow got even closer. “When you learn how to do that giant demon armor.”

Gueira started to uncoil as he set his can in between them, offering if Meis needed it. “If I can do it again.” He reached for the last of his water and chugged the rest, screwing the cap back on. “But in exchange, you gotta teach me how to make my own hellish ride.”

Meis swiped his can and hoisted it up with a firm nod. “Deal.”

As food was eaten and the blue embers started to fade, Gueira took to resting with half of his head outside the concrete tent to stare up at the stars. Meis stayed curled underneath their unstable shelter, now using his jacket as a pillow while Gueira opted to use his arms. If only his sister could see the night; she’d be lighting up more than any amount of stars he could count.

Loneliness wormed its way into his chest. “How long do you think we’ll be out here?”

“Dunno,” Gueira tilted his head up to see Meis with eyes closed. “Whenever people stop hurtin us.”

They’d learned of the Great World Blaze every year at school. In elementary, middle and high, the years kept stacking up on how long burnish existed. His gut clenched at the thought that they would be like this forever. That this was just the beginning of their hardships and that it would get much, much worse.

“Then I guess that settles it.”

Meis opened his eyes and raised his head with confusion. “Settles what?”

Gueira sat up to rub some sand out of his hair. “Well, if we’re gonna be on the run for awhile, we might as well stick together.” His words felt heavy like he was betraying his family and friends for this one stranger he hardly knew. But even through the homesickness, he couldn’t return home if he wanted to. Not when he thought he’d have to leave Meis out here by his lonesome. “From now on, I’ll always have your back. You can count on Gueira!” He threw a cocky jab at his chest and proclaimed it to the stars. “And anyone else we find that needs help, we’ll help them too! We won’t just survive, we’ll… we’ll make it! And have fun while doing it!”

The thought of burnish having fun led to ideas of murderers and arsonist psychopaths. Yet Gueira felt a fire in his gut to change that idea.

Meis blinked, then dipped into a honeyed, sweet gaze that tickled his heart. “Sounds tough, but I always liked a challenge.”

His heart skipped when Meis threw his jacket into his face. He wrestled with the article until it was plucked off by Meis, who rested by his side with a flop. “You got yourself a partner.”

A partner. That sounded much sweeter to him than any other relationship. With a long sigh, he dropped back to the sand with a grin as Meis gave a tiresome one back until he slapped his face with the sleeve of his jacket. “Now sleep. You’re too noisy.”

“Hey!” Gueira spat still with a teasing edge. “You asked for this by helping me! You can’t worm out of it now, partner!”

The campfire sizzled into a small flare that was recalled to Meis’ fingers and launched into Gueria’s nose. It flared and only warmed his cheeks, but the loud snap jolted him to his feet. “Wh-you bastard!”

“Go to sleep!” Meis barked but it was lost in a fit of laughter and hiccups. “Lord, you’re somethin else.”

Gueira took it for the compliment it was and, with a fuzzy heart and happy feelings, he settled back down and rested his eyes. Things would be okay, so long as they had each other.


End file.
